Half truth

Chapter Thirty-Two

My phone buzzed in the wristlet purse I was wearing. Closing my eyes, I banged my head against the tile. It was probably Travis, calling to see where I was, and the thing was, I didn’t want to talk to him right now. Seeing him was great for all of five minutes, but I was over it now. I set the cup down inside the tub and opened my purse, taking my phone out. It wasn’t a call, it was a text, and it wasn’t from Travis, but from Logan.

Logan Fitzgerald: Are you ready to leave the party?

Me: Currently locked in the bathroom because I’m dying to leave the party, so yes.

I stared at the little dots as he formulated a response. When he took too long, I picked up my cup again. I was mid-sip when the pound on the door came. It made me jump so fast, I spilled whiskey on the front of my toga.

“Motherfucker.” I walked over to the door. “Occupied!”

“It’s me.”

I groaned, but unlocked the door anyway, before heading to the sink. The door opened, closed, and locked, but I didn’t bother to look up as I cupped water and splashed it on the fabric over my chest.

“You made me ruin my toga.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Getting drunk.” I shut the faucet and looked at him, blinking when I finally got a good look.

He looked like he belonged in a toga, like an emperor, and the rest of us mere thespians in a school play. Logan, with his dark hair—tame yet messy—his dark green eyes, his golden skin and roped muscle, in a toga was definitely something to be admired.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m drunk.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

“Yet you’re still drinking, apparently.” He closed the distance between us just as I opened my eyes and suddenly, he was standing within touching distance, kissing distance, and my heart couldn’t seem to handle the mixture of his proximity and the alcohol swooshing in my brain.

“You know what? You should just kiss me.”

“Oh yeah?” His lips twitched. “Why’s that?”

“Because the last time we kissed it was pretty good.” I leaned closer to him. “And you obviously wa

“Is that so?” He chuckled as he brought his hand to my face.

“It is.” I searched his eyes. He was entirely too amused and apparently too sober.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His thumb caressed my jaw as I nodded. “Tell me.”

“I want you to kiss me so bad you have no idea.” My arm felt like lead as I lifted it and draped it over his naked neck. I let it slide and grabbed onto his shoulder blade. “You have a big muscle here.”

Logan laughed. “Oh, Mae.”

“What?” I blinked. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

“I am.” He leaned closer still. I closed my eyes upon feeling his breath on my lips, then his lips landed right at the corner of mine. My heart stopped. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to puke and it had little to do with the alcohol and more to do with the butterflies ru

“What?” My eyes popped open. He laughed. Placing my palms on his chest, I shoved him away. “You’re an asshole.”

He laughed louder and reached for my hands, but I stepped away.

“No. Keep laughing. I’ll find someone else to kiss at this party.” I moved to brush past him, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back. I turned to face him. “I bet you if your last partner would’ve asked you to kiss her, you would have,” I said. “Oh, that’s right, you did.” I yanked my arm from his grasp.

“Amelia, you seriously need to let that go. Besides, your entire chest is showing because you splashed water on the white sheet you’re wearing. The fact that you haven’t noticed or care means you’re drunker than you think.” His gaze moved from my face and darkened when it reached my chest. “And I’m not letting you leave this bathroom like that.”

“What do you expect me to do, Julius Caesar? Do you have another sheet I can use lying around? Besides, who the hell cares? Nobody will notice.”

“Trust me, they’ll notice.”

“They won’t.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I’ll notice and that’s enough.” He grabbed the white towel hanging on the towel bar and wrapped it around me. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I pulled it tightly around myself. “Now, wait a minute before you come outside. I don’t want to give people the wrong impression.” I shot him a look. “If you would’ve kissed me, I wouldn’t have minded the rumors, but I’m not going to go down as one of your groupies without cause.”

His loud groan was the only indication I got on his agreement as I walked out and closed the door behind me. I froze at the sight of Travis in the hall, right outside the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“You took a long ass time in the bathroom.” He frowned, looking at the door. “Let’s go back outside.” I moved forward, grabbing his arm.

“Nah, I’m good right here.”

“Trav. Come on.” I tugged his arm again.

His gaze met mine. “Who were you in there with?”

“A friend. It wasn’t . . . it’s not . . . ” I stopped talking. Why was I explaining myself to my ex-boyfriend? “It doesn’t matter.”

It was loud in here with Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts” blasting from the DJ’s speakers and the women shouting the lyrics, but I still heard the moment the bathroom door opened behind me. Or maybe it was Travis’s eyes widening slightly that gave it away. Either way, my heart picked up a few notches.

“A friend,” he said, looking at me again. “Nice try. You storm in here acting all pissed off because I’m flirting with someone and grab the first guy you see? Is that what happened?”

“First of all, I was not pissed off. Flirt all you want. I don’t care,” I said. “Secondly, that’s none of your business.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Those were Logan’s words, booming from behind me.

My mind instantly went to the last party I went to, where Celia said that the minute the hockey players showed up, they caused a ruckus. I stepped back, hoping to act as a shield both ways. Logan damn well knew who Travis was and he knew he’d be here tonight. He was just trying to start trouble.

“Who the fuck are you is the real question.” Travis pushed away from the wall, standing at his full height.

I wasn’t even sure who could win this fight. If I were a betting person, I wouldn’t bet on it at all. I knew Logan had a rough upbringing, with his dad and all, but Travis had grown up in a bad part of the city, the kind where people took their bikes inside their apartment and chained them anyway.

“I already told you, he’s my friend.” I glared at Travis.

“Friend.” Logan scoffed. “We’re not friends, Amelia.”

In my drunken state, that hurt. It wasn’t that he said we weren’t friends, but the distasteful way in which he’d said it that got me. I managed to shoot him a glare over my shoulder and almost took it back when I got a good look at his clenched jaw and flexed bicep. He definitely looked like he was ready to fight.

“This is my ex-boyfriend. Travis, this is my friend, Logan.”

“Stop calling me your friend.” Logan’s glare met mine.

“Are you kidding? You wouldn’t even kiss me in there and you want me to call you what exactly, if not my friend?”

Travis snorted. Logan’s gaze turned murderous. I started sweating, my feet shifting as I stood my ground between them. I was definitely sober now.

“Okay, I’m going to walk away from both of you now because you’re both being ridiculous.”

“I’ll go with you,” Travis said.

“Fuck you. She’s leaving with me.” Logan stepped up to my side.